


Trying Your Best

by captain_vantass



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Death, Illness, Other, Zombiestuck, implied alcoholism, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6788722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_vantass/pseuds/captain_vantass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider is more then happy to spend the apocalypse locked up in his apartment.</p>
<p>But really, who spends the apocalypse hiding forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rose, what the fuck?

**Author's Note:**

> I literally started writing this so long ago, I forgot all about it. 
> 
> I've got big plans. Be prepared for ridiculous deaths, gorey scenes, gay romances, and so much more.

Your chest hurts. It's hard to breathe. You've been running for too long. The bag on your back is just weighing you down and you wish to whatever God there could be that you could drop it. But you can't. 

Your name is Dave Strider. You are sixteen years old today. And you fucking hope that you get to see seventeen too. 

At the moment, you've got about eight different shambling corpses sprinting remarkably quickly behind you, making grabbing hands at your retreating form. Unlike you, they don't get exhausted. Also unlike you, they have back up. You swear your lungs are about to give out as you round a corner and spot it. The fire escape ladder that hangs halfway down. Fuck, you wish you'd pulled it all the way down. But that would have been a hazard. 

You take as deep of a breath as you can manage and lunge your entire scrawny frame at it, you catch the third rung up in sweaty hands and barely pull your ankles up before grabbing hands can get them. You don't have such luck with the ladder. One of them has latched on and bares their teeth in a starved snarl and blood streaked face with empty eyes and you feel like you could be sick. But when it gets close enough, you slam a foot into it's face and send it clattering down, knocking the others aside. Just long enough for you to haul the ladder up out of their reach. 

You linger there, staring down at the reaching hands and snarling mouths. Wheezing and trembling like a leaf. Your hand cups your mouth to muffle the hoarse sound that leaves your throat. Despite yourself, tears start to streak down your cheeks, and you flop back on the grated metal. It isn't safe to linger here for long, but dammit you need to rest. You don't think you could force yourself up the many flights it takes to get to the top without resting a little. There are stars dancing across your vision and you're still trying to get a decent breath, which is difficult through shuddering sobs.

Fifteen minutes later, you've hauled yourself to your feet. The chorus of the undead beneath you is too much to ignore. The trek up the stairs is long, tedious, and exhausting. But that's the price you pay for safety in this city. When you finally reach your floor, you're ready to pass out. God, you need water. You climb in through the window with a soft grunt, and regard the watchmen with a small nod. He's always there, with a gaze always focused on the main entrance to the apartment. 

"Sup, Cal." You murmur, which is all your voice can manage, and pause to fist bump the puppet. You remember the days where the endless eyes used to terrify you, and the silent grin would send you packing. Now, it's practically a comfort. " 'M home." You holler into the dimly lit building, illuminated mostly by the setting Houston sun. As expected, you get no response. You've been the only living occupant here for about a month now. But you still hold onto hope. 

Your brother left on a food-run, not exceptionally unlike the one you just came back from. He ruffled your hair and told you not to wait up. Maybe it was some sort of foreshadowing. Maybe he knew he wasn't coming home. Maybe he planned to be gone a while. Either way, you keep the lights on longer then you should, at night, and wait until exhaust deems you can't stay awake any longer. You hold onto a slim bit of hope that you're not the only one left.

Well, you know you're not completely alone in the world.

You pause to drop the bag in the kitchen, and scoop up a glass from the bucket of water on the counter. Dammit. Getting low again, and there hadn't been a decent rainstorm in weeks. Just what you needed. 

There's not much you can do about it at the moment, so you shuffle away from the kitchen and into your room. This is the favorite part of your day, almost the only reason you've lasted this long since your brother's disappearance. 

You shake the mouse before even falling into the chair, promptly greeted by one of the only things that still works online. Pesterchum. You thank a God you don't believe in for your brother's foresight, how that man had the technical genius to keep the power running in your building, you have no idea. He used to say he'd teach you one day. Huh.

You regard the messages on your screen with a small smile. Each box holds a different greeting, and different time stamps. The most recent being..

\-- gardenGnostic has begun pestering turntechGodhead --

GG: dave!!  
GG: you wouldnt believe what happened today  
GG: me and bec were out on the beach, enjoying the good weather mostly   
GG: and we saw a boat  
GG: an actual, moving boat  
GG: we tried to flag it down but it was too far away.. :(  
GG: but thats a good sign, right?  
GG: maybe someones dealing with the problem!!

You shake your head a little. It wouldn't be a normal day if you didn't return to hopeful messages from the island-girl.

TG: well shit, jade  
TG: were saved  
TG: a fucking boat has come to cure the problem  
TG: are you even here right now or did i just miss you  
GG: im here!! i was just talking to john, sorry!  
GG: how did your day go? you mentioned going out in the city again last time we talked.. are you okay?

You regard yourself, with aching sides and slightly trembling hands.

TG: nothing i couldnt handle  
TG: city was pretty quiet today  
GG: phew! i was worried all day!  
TG: im offended  
GG: oh shush!  
TG: do you really doubt my abilities so much jade?  
TG: do you think im so incompetent i cant take a few drooling idiots   
TG: do you think im less then them

\-- gardenGnostic has ceased pestering turntechGodhead. --

TG: shit  
TG: did you lose internet again?

You heave an inconvenienced sigh. Given the world you live in, it's a miracle you can talk to her at all. You really shouldn't be so frustrated when she disappears like this, but you are. You turn your attention to the next most recent messages

\-- ectoBiologist has begun pestering turntechGodhead. --

EB: dave?  
EB: you here?  
EB: i really need to talk to you  
TG: perfect timing, egbert, the object of your affection has just arrived.   
EB: pfft  
EB: shut up this is serious you doofus  
TG: oh shit  
TG: let me put my serious shades on   
EB: dave!  
TG: hang on i gotta find them  
EB: augh!  
TG: i got them. whats the problem?  
EB: okay..  
EB: so  
EB: you know how i told you that me and my dad have been living out of his car?  
TG: yeah?  
EB: well   
EB: yesterday we ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere  
EB: dad thought we had extra but?  
TG: holy shit dude  
TG: what the fuck does that mean  
EB: well. for starters the car has no power. which means i cant keep the phone battery up.   
TG: dude  
EB: and it means were stranded.   
TG: john holy shit  
EB: yeah..  
EB: dads been trying to figure out a plan for the past twenty minutes. mostly just swearing to himself and looking at a map..  
TG: well  
TG: my offer still stands of welcoming you guys to the apartment.  
EB: were really..  
EB: were lost dave. 

You can't help it, you swear out loud. It isn't like there's anyone around to hear the string of profanity as you rest your face in your hands.

EB: i think were going to just abandon the car   
TG: and just travel on foot?  
EB: yeah.  
TG: dude what the fuck  
EB: we dont have a choice  
EB: its either that or sit in the car and hope it magically starts working again  
TG: cant you like  
TG: i dont know  
TG: scout ahead? head down the road and see if there are any cars you can get some gas from  
TG: or even just switch over?  
TG: traveling on foot just doesnt seem safe  
TG: i dont know how it gets in less populated areas   
TG: but here its like  
TG: its a life or death thing  
TG: its fucking terrifying  
TG: john?  
TG: dude?

You stare at the box blankly, expecting some form of response. Anything. But he doesn't say anything.

TG: john  
TG: come on man  
TG: i know youre still online  
TG: are you ignoring me for one of the girls  
TG: harleys not even online  
TG: are you flirting with rose again  
TG: john  
TG: john come on say something  
TG: john!  
TG: come on man this isnt the time to be fucking silent.  
TG: please  
TG: john come on   
TG: youre kind of freaking me out

\-- ectoBiologist is now offline. --

The alert message makes you slouch back in your chair. Okay. Deep breaths. This isn't the time to panic.

Oh, who are you shitting? You sit there for about thirty minutes, waiting in silence. Mumbling to yourself that he's going to be okay, that he's going to come back any minute. His phone must have died.

His phone.

You push away from the computer with a snarled "Fuck!" You have about three people left in this world, and one of them just spontaneously disappeared, without a word. Fuck, it was so fucking.. Simple. One second he was there, the next he wasn't. 

After an hour passed, you wondered if you'd forever be waiting for him too. Just like your brother. 

It was so simple. You're a whirlwind of raw emotions. You've been saving this up for too long, but it seems like now is the perfect time to have a meltdown. 

You need to cool down, so you click open the last remaining box. The only other person who has a steady enough connection to rival your own.  
You need someone who won't disappear on you.

\-- tentacleTherapist has begun pestering turntechGodhead --

TT: Dearest Mister Strider, I hate to inconvience you but I need your attention rather soon.  
TT: Or, you know, whenever you decide to grace me with your presence.  
TT: No, really, take your time.

You roll your eyes. 

TG: jesus  
TG: i know you like, worship me or something, but you couldn't wait a couple hours?  
TT: I can and I did.  
TT: I take it youwere busy with something actually important.  
TT: If you say sleeping, I'm probably going to scream.  
TG: food run, rose, jeez.   
TG: you know i do food runs in the mornings.  
TT: You need to write me up an actual, detailed schedule of when you plan to disappear for extended periods of time so I know not to wait up.  
TG: yeah, sure. get right on that.

The pounding of your pulse in your own eardrums is subsiding, slowly but surely. In favor of a mild, amused annoyance. 

TG: so what was the big emergency, rose?  
TT: Right. So. I'm sure you got the excited pestering from one miss Jade Harley.  
TG: what about it?  
TT: I've been doing a lot of thinking, research, planning, and packing.  
TG: oh no.  
TT: Oh yes.  
TT: Disregarding the chance that she is right in her desperate hope that this was some kind of sign of the world getting fixed by those more capable..  
TT: Jade is, in fact, the safest of all of us.  
TG: no shit.  
TT: Shut up.  
TT: She's got a food source, clean water, steady defenses. We were talking. The most trouble she ever gets from the Undead is the occasional waterlogged walker, washing up on the shore. And even then, they can barely carry their bloated corpses more then a few steps.  
TG: gross.  
TT: Absolutely.  
TT: But she's safe.   
TT: You and I are less so.  
TG: i don't know, aren't you in an underground bunker? i'm in a highrise. we're pretty safe.

It's a long time before she responds again. Long enough that the flare of panic starts up in your chest again.

TT: They got in last night.  
TG: oh.  
TG: shit  
TG: rose, are you okay?  
TT: I'm..   
TT: Well, in terms of physical healthy I'm at my peak.  
TT: But I can't do this much longer, Dave.  
TT: I can't stay locked in the dark forever, picking at half a can a day. It's only a matter of time before I run out of food and I'd rather be out living in the world then starve to death in the same room my mother died in.  
TG: shit, rose..  
TT: I'm packing my bag.   
TT: Tomorrow, I'm starting my trip.   
TT: I'll be heading your way first.  
TG: rose  
TT: I expect to be there in six to ten days, giving me plenty of time to get lost, run out of gas, walk, et-cetera. If all goes smoothly, I should be there in no less then two.. If I have to walk the whole way, it could very well be a month. Nevertheless, you shoul dbe packed up and ready to go.  
TG: rose, holy fuck this is such a bad idea.  
TT: It's better then sitting around and rotting to death.   
TT: I haven't sat in the sunlight in months.  
TT: I have been craving fresh air and stimulation beyond playing with cans and making a town out of it.  
TT: A Can Town, if you will.  
TG: what happens when your ass dies on the way here?

Silence.

TT: So be it.

You groan in frustration, your hands curl against your skin. So much for relaxing. Your fist pounds into the desk, rattling the entire set-up. 

" _Fuck!_ "

TG: come on, rose. this place is fucking insane.  
TG: it's worse then when the people were actually alive.  
TG: even if you get all the way over here, you're going to get eaten alive in houston.  
TG: please.  
TT: Have faith in me, dear Strider.   
TT: I'll be leaving in about an hour. If you have any valuable information to part with, I'll check before I lose the blessing of wifi.  
TG: do you really have to do this?  
TT: I can't stay here any longer.  
TT: I feel like I'm dying every day I waste in here.   
TT: I need to do _something_

TG: i'm scared

You delete that 

TG: i don't want you to get hurt

That one too.  
TG: if you die, i'm kicking your ass.  
TT: I'll be certain to avoid death, only to appease you.   
TT: I need to finish packing and get ready to head out..  
TT: Unless you think of something else to tell me, I probably won't message you again. Sheerly so I don't lose the nerve and resolve to go out.  
TG: god forbid.  
TT: Shut up.  
TT: I'll see you soon, okay?  
TG: yeah.  
TG: see you soon.

\-- tentacleTherapist is now offline. --

TG: be safe  
TG: fuck.

Today just keeps getting worse and fucking worse.

John is probably dead. Rose is going to die. Of course, you're fucking losing everyone.

_Shit_ ,  
You should have told Rose what happened to John.   
Maybe if you'd told her, she would have reconsidered and stayed somewhere safe..

 

TG: rose hey,   
TG: just uh.  
TG: okay.  
TG: john went mia today.  
TG: and i should have fucking said something sooner because you're probably not even going to acknowledge this  
TG: but please don't go missing too.

You're more pissed with yourself then her. You rise up to your feet, kicking your chair across the floor so hard that it tips and crashes violently across the floor.   
Fuck it. 

You retreat from your room, grunting some kind of acknowledgement to the puppets nearby as you head to the fireescape again. You go up the last stairs and find the rooftop. Just as you left it. With a fabric picnic chair near the edge and a pile of blankets on the ground beside it. 

Sure, you're stuck alone in Hell. But at least you have a nice view of the sunset.


	2. Don't Leave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose can't live the rest of her life in the bunker. She's certain of it. Even if it feels impossible to leave it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose takes the wheel in this chapter, featuring death, subtle mentions of alcoholism, and emotional teenagers crying.

You feel sick.

Grossly nauseous and almost bordering onto dizzy, you sit on the pile of blankets you call your bed.

On the floor beside your feet is your packed bag. Stuffed to the brim with everything you deemed necessary, from an food and first aid kits, to a change of clothes and an old photo album, all of which has somehow been crammed into your bag..  
(You're amazed you were able to limit it to one bag. Your chest aches as you think of everything you're leaving behind.) 

Your name is Rose Lalonde. You are seventeen years old, you're a Sagittarius, you like long walks on the beach, good books, and anything that isn't the apocalypse.

The apocalypse that was, currently, making it impossible for you to do anything but sit there and rock back and forth, desperately trying to will yourself to do something other then struggle to breathe.

You were supposed to leave half an hour ago. After how stubbornly you insisted this was what you needed to do, one would think you actually.. Would do it. But packing up your things somehow put out the fire in your chest and you let your thoughts wander.

Dave was right, wasn't he? It was too dangerous.  
You'd get eaten alive by the undead or perhaps you'd get hunted like an animal by the living.  
Didn't that always happen in the movies? The good guys get chased down and nearly killed for their supplies?

Either way.  
Going out there was a death sentence..

But it wasn't any better in here. 

You double over slowly, your arms tucked tight around your stomach. Your eyes squeeze shut and force back the liquid welling up in them.  
You can't cry, this can't make you cry.  
You're just leaving the house.

Maybe someday you'll be back..

(Even as you think it, you know you won't.)

It takes another long ten minutes before you manage to unsteadily rise to your feet. At least, before you go, you have one more thing to do. 

Most of the remains of your food fit in your bag- A terrifying realization that only told you more firmly you needed to leave..

Three cans didn't fit. You could carry two of them to the car, you'll, hopefully, have eaten them by the time you can no longer use it.. But one of them is a sturdy container of some kind of mystery meat. The lable is worn away and you're certain this was bought when you were a toddler. You didn't want to eat it, even as a last resort. But you know someone who'll want to. You head over to the far end of the bunker, beside the closet door sealed so firmly tight, even the hardest hits don't knock it lose. You stripped the necessary items from this side of the bunker a while ago.. But you never touched some things. 

The wallet near the wall, which you know she only had there for the dozens of pictures she'd cramed into it with the two of you. Her old, bloodstained blanket and pillow. And an old, worn composition notebook. The cover has stickers of cats across it and your handwriting from when you were.. Six? Seven? You can barely remember. You can't stomach flipping through the pages of the old story you wrote ages ago. Not again.

You, unfortunately, remember the last time you had.

 

_Her hands were shaking so badly she was struggling to hold the book at all. Frankly, the fact she'd been sitting up enough to read was a marvel. You abandoned your own activities to go sit beside her. You took the book from her hands and watched her hollow eyes light up as you offered to read it for her._

_"My Rosie.. My little hero.." She'd murmured as she settled back into her makeshift bed. Her arms rested over her blanket and you resisted the urge to insist she change her bandages again. You didn't have the supplies to spare, and you'd just cleaned them yesterday. "Always.. helping me when.. I need it most.."_

_Your chest ached as you forced a smile._ That's a lie. _You'd thought bitterly, forcing yourself to look away from the bandages obscuring the nasty bite dug deep into her arm._ Couldn't help you when you _Actually_ needed it. __

_But you didn't have it in you to actually say that to her. Not like this._

_With her skin so pale you could see the veins beneath it like a paper map and sunken eyes, tired eyes with bags hanging off them, worse then any late-night drinking binge ever gave her. The only real color to her face was the lingering splatter of blood she'd failed wipe away after her last coughing fit._

_"I'm happy to help." You told her, finally finding your voice as her glazed gaze raised to you. You averted your own and focused instead on the messy scribbling. A fantastical story with poor grammar and a horrible plot. Really, Rose, what were you thinking? Wizards would never ride cats into battle, you fool. But your mother adored it.. You once claimed her adoration was a joke. Poking fun at you sarcastically.. But after she'd insisted on bringing this, you began to doubt it. Maybe she genuinely loved it._

_If not for the writing, then at least she loved it because you wrote it. For her._

_"Once upon a--"_

_"Rose.."_

_"Yes, mother?"_

_You didn't look up. You _couldn't_ look up. You would have taken tending to her hangovers then this anyday. In fact, you longed for those days.. You at least knew she'd survive the night then._

_"You still.. You still have the gun..Mommy gave you.. Right?" She talked to you like you were still six and your stomach churned. Asking you if you were armed while treating you like a toddler.. Maybe she was a little uncontrollably condescending._

_"I don't think that's necessary to worry about right now."_

_"Rose, you know it i--"_

_"Once upon a time, there was a-"_

_"_ Rosaline Lalonde _." Your fingers curled and bend the feeble cardboard of the notebook, your teeth ground together. Don't do it, don't say it, don't-- "Look at me."_

_Reluctantly, you folded the notebook shut, looking at her. You realized, much to your shame, that your cheeks were damp. Her hand reached out to brush the wetness away with clammy hands, cold as ice._

_"I'm scared.."_

_Shit, you didn't mean to say that out loud. Why did you admit that, why did you say that to her? She had it so much worse then you did, you had no right to be so terrified. You're shaking and crying like a baby and she looks calm and composed as she wipes your tears away. She spoke softly, her voice gentle and loving. "I know.. I know, baby.." Her hand flattened, simply curled against your cheek and you leaned into it. You inhaled a deep breath that slipped back out your lungs in a soft, hiccuping sob. "I know you're.. Scared.. I know.. But you.. Have to be strong.. For_ me _.. Can you do that.. Rosie?" Your words fail you, so you simply nod. It's more of a burrow into her palm. You can't look at her anymore, because she's crying too and you're not sure how much more of thise you can take._

 _"I'm sorry, Mom- I'm so,_ so _sorry."_

_You plead with her for forgiveness and bend further, burrowing your face into her shoulder. She lacks the warmth she once had radiating off her. You can't feel her heartbeat and you let out another hoarse sob._

_"Baby.. Baby, it's not your fault.." She murmurs, her arms wrapped around you. You think she meant to grip you tightly,_ protectively _.. But the embrace is weak and fragile. It's a comfort, nevertheless. "You did.. You did so good.. I'm so proud.. Of you.." She takes a deep, long breath. "I will_ always _be proud of you."_

_You can't take much more, so you let yourself fall apart. Sobbing in her arms._

_Somehow, inbetween gentle murmurs and shaking sobs you fell asleep._

_When you woke, she wasn't anywhere to be seen. But something was in the closet. Growling, hitting the door, scraping once manicured nails down the sturdy metal._

You pop the lid to the canned food and uncontrollably grimace at the processed, stale scent that assaults your nose. Oh well. She won't mind. There's a little vent at the very top of the door and you simply need to stand on a folding chair to twist the screws loose and pop it off. Through the dim, almost nonexistant light, you can see her. 

Her hair hangs limply. The color somehow drained further, like someone stole it from her. Her teeth, however, look.. Longer, somehow. You don't want to contemplate it. Especially when her dead eyes raise up to you and she emits a low, hungry snarl. You feel chills run down your spine as she teeters a couple steps and hits the door, rattling the metal and your bones. You wet your lips and push the can through the opening, watching the metal clatter and the mystery meat splatter across the floor.. Well, at least she's interested in it..

Your original plan had been to leave her the meat, _and_ the journal.. But seeing her like this makes you clutch it protectively to your chest, craving a time when things were good. You always were selfish, you reason. And there's bound to be a little room left in your bag.

You climb down off the chair and lean your back against the door. This, unfortunately, means you listen to the sound of her eating the meat and knocking the can around. Like a starved beast, barely capable of anything beyond _food_

"I'm.. Sorry, Mom.. If they.. If there's ever a cure.." You start to promise her, but you're startled out of the sentimate by the sound of her shoulder bashing into the door again, her starved snarl so loud it rings through your skull and sends the contents of your stomach to the back of your throat. "I'll be back-" You finish hoarsely, abandoning the door and striding over to your bag.

It's better to die out there, living, then to die in here.

You don't want to end up like your mother. You _can't_ be here anymore.

You've got the fire to leave your bunker again. You decide to act on it before you lose it again, lest you return to hyperventilating in the corner. to 

You manage to cram the journal into the bag, you bend some things and strain the fabric but get the last two cans wedged in, and then you're on your feet. You've got solid metal knitting needles hanging off your belt. Once a gift to encourage your old hobby, the lavender spikes will-Hopefully-keep you alive now. If they don't work.. You've got your mother's pistol hanging off the holister on your hip.

You walk quickly, leaving the sounds of her starving shrieks behind you, you refuse to acknowledge them again. They're nothing but the nightmares in the back of your mind now. You stride up the steps you feared to tread near for so long, powered on by the fleeting sound of her voice. The sturdy locks had rusted a while back, snapping off.. Which, to your dismay, was how the first walker managed to get in.

Well, the second one.

You push the creaky metal door open and you can't help but gasp when real, fresh air graces your lungs.. Your eyes protest the blinding, natural light, and for a good five minutes, you're still standing there, readjusting..

Over your shoulder, you look at the bunker again. 

"Goodbye, mother."

You murmur, thankful for the fact her shrieks have died down into silence. Making it so much easier to imagine she's alive and well, rosy cheeked and waving at you with a martini glass. 

You turn away from the figment at the base of the stairs and you step into the grass.

There's no turning back now. 

Houston, here you come.


	3. Nothing is fine. Everything hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road again, with John and his dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the blood and guts really come in.  
> Continue with caution.

The air is hot and heavy with humidity, sweat streaks down your face and plasters your hair to your scalp, making it hang down in wet strands. You want nothing more then to sit down and take a breath, but you can't do that now.

Your name is-- " _John! On your left!"_ No, not on your left. Your name is Egbert. John Egbert. You're barely seventeen years old and currently you can't pause to think about anything other then the feeling of your hammer smacking a segment of a walker's skull in before it chomps down on you. You've been doing this dance for the last ten minutes, managing to make the group that startled the two of you from five down to two. Your sides ache, but you're running on adrenaline and too fired up to stop.

You can hear your father struggling similarly, ducking past swinging arms and bashing glove-covered hands into their heads. He's in his element, back in college boxing for cash while he earned his business degree.

You two had a system. He disabled them as best he could, distracted them, and occasionally dispatched them. You'd make sure they were dead. You'd break their skulls and give them a good, hearty double tap when your father had already managed to send them back to the darkness of death.

You rip the hammer back and proceed to give two, then three more hard hits to the mushy skull, watching the splatter of rancid blood across the hot pavement and your fingertips. Ew. This is why your father wore leather gloves. Hot and sweaty as they were, at least they kept the blood away. 

By the time he finishes his fiend off, you're practically wheezing.. No, wait. You are wheezing. You're almost struggling to breathe, which your father immediately notices. You notice the switch flip from fighter to guardian and he's in front of you in a heartbeat.  
In your recent years, you've begun to catch up to him in height.. Barely a couple inches shorter then him now, you can meet him eyelevel when you are standing upright.. Which you're not doing. You're doubling over as you struggle to get a decent breath into your lungs. 

"Easy, John." Your father advises. His hand, firm but gentle, pushes you upright by the shoulder. "Come on, get your arms up. Deep breaths. I want you to count with me." 

His stern, fatherly voice is laced with concern and you do as you're instructed. Your eyes are wet with the faint beginnings of tears. But you manage a deep, raspy breath. You see your father exhale a relieved one of his own. He gives you a smile and you give him a lopsided one of your own. 

"Better, John?" He asks softly and you nod. You're not quite ready to speak and he accepts that easily. "Keep breathing." _Like you were going to stop._ He unearths a half-empty water bottle from his bag and offers it to you. You try to refuse but he gives a stern 'Hrrmph' and you resign. 

"Thanks." You manage, before you drink a quarter of it in one swig. "I'm.. I'm fine now. I'm fine."

"We should rest." Before you can protest, he's moving toward the side of the road. You've been walking this two-lane path for hours. There's no sign of civilization- Or the bones of what once was. No cars, no homes, just flat, grassy road for miles in all directions. The beating sun has begun to set and you could cry you're so happy. You follow him to the side of the road and plop down on it. Sitting just long enough to take your bag all the way off before you lay down. Your father chuckles softly and you give him another goofy smile. 

It was amazing how surviving made everything else seem a little lighter, a little warmer. 

He's pulled the map out again, laying it out before him to try and chart your location all over again. It's useless, you assume. But you won't tell him that. He deserves some kind of hope to hold onto. 

Instead of working on the map, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. Shattered to all Hell, it makes your chest twist and your smile fade away.  
Dave,  
Rose,  
Jade,  
Shit, you lost them all with this broken thing. Your father was apologetic, offering you his ancient flipphone in return.. But you let him keep that. It'd do you no good. Your thumb brushes along the cracks and you think about them.

Dave, hiding away in his apartment. Pretending he wasn't craving human contact with his not-so-subtle attempts to get the two of you to chart your course toward Houston.. How was he going to fare with you gone? Not well. You tried to tell yourself he'd be fine with Rose and Jade to keep him company, but you also remember how badly he melted down when he lost his brother..  
Then again, you're not saying you're as imporant to him as his brother.. Just.. Enough to hurt him with your disapperance. 

Rose, of course, would find out soon enough. She and Dave were always talking. You can imagine the messages she's left your Pesterchum. Just as concerned as Dave with layers of sarcasm to hide away her human emotion.  
What was with your friends and struggling to express their feelings?

Well, at least you knew one person who didn't struggle with their feelings. Jade was always upfront with you. With everyone. She never failed to let you know what she was thinking..  
She wouldn't hear about it until.. Tomorrow. When her finicky connection decided to work again and Dave explained what had happened to you. 

God, you missed them all already. The phone is shoved back in your pocket as your hands shift and rub against your face. Ew. Sweat. You wipe your damp hands on your damp shirt and simply groan in disgust. Of course everything is going to be disgusting. 

"So.." Your father starts. You recognize that tone. It's the sound of him pretending he has a plan. His fingers tap against the paper of the map, in the vague Oklahoma area. "Your, ah. Your friend. David."

"Dave."

"Right. He's in Houston, isn't he?"

You perk up, sit up across the cement and bump your elbows into the gravel. "Yeah, in the heart of Houston, why?" 

Your father looks hesitant. Wetting his lips and left thinking as he traces a path along the map..

"We're heading toward him, then.. I believe that's the best bet we currently have."

"Holy Shit-"

" _Language_ , John."  
Though he scolds you, you can tell the excitemetn you display has gotten to him. He smiles a little. A reluctant curve.  
"He, uh. He is, actually, a boy your age, right?"

"..What?"

"You know for certain he isn't some old man, trying to lure you there."

" _Dad._ "

"John."

You two stare into eachother's eyes. You try not to look so amused byt he notion and fail.

"Yes, Dad, I'm sure. He's some kid from Houston. I'd show you pictures of him, but.." You motion toward your pocket and he nods.

"Fine.. Very well. If you're sure." 

You scramble up to your feet and ignore the dizziness that the action gives you. 

"Seriously-? Oh, God, he'll be so excited to see us- To see _anyone_. Maybe we could stay with him- His apartments supposed to be safe, so.." You trail off, your hands carding through your dripping wet hair. You flash him a big, excited grin.. Needless to say, you haven't been this happy since that time a few weeks back when you and your dad found an untouched convience store.  
(You ate good, that night.)

He starts to get up and you help him with a sturdy arm.

One hand is placed on your shoulder with an affectionate squeeze and you wrap your arm around him. You won't admit it's partially for support, as you're still lightheaded. He doesn't seem to mind. The two of you walk together, down the road and to the setting sun.

For hours. 

The two of you pursue it, even as it disappears over the horizon and you insist that, if your father is fine, you don't need a break. You're fine. Your chest is tight, but you're still breathing. You're too stubborn to admit that it inhibits you sometimes.. Your father realizes this, because you're just like him and his own mother. A stubborn family of hard-headed goofballs. 

Eventually, he convinces you to rest, for both of your sake. 

"Wait here."

You settle into the grass beside the road and follow your dad's instruction. You know what he's doing. Striding off ahead in search of burnable supplies. Dead plants, old debris, twigs or branches.. Anything, really. 

He comes back and forth. Back and forth. Making the pile and declining every offer for help you give him. You know he would rather you sit there and rest.

So you do. You slip your glasses off your nose and clean them on the last, small piece of clean fabric you have left on you. You really need a new shirt. The white fabric of your current one is starting to look.. Brown.. Covered with rancid blood and dirt. Not only that, but the poor slimey design has been worn away, torn and cracked and peeling.. It's really a pathetic sight. You wish you could have taken better care of it.. But really, what could you do in this environment? You purse your lips and eye the scratches on your glasses with a soft sigh. At least they were still in one piece, you can't even think of what you'd do without--

" _Shit!_ "

Your father damn near screams and your blood runs cold. You scramble to your feet, fumbling your hammer into your sweaty hands. Not far off, you see him tip to the ground the long grass parting as.. 

Oh no.

He must not have seen it.. The corpse must have been laying there, unmoving, and he just kept on walking. You're on it before the thing has a chance to remove it's teeth. The solid, flat end of it bashed so hard there's a sickening crunch. You can see the hole you put in it's head but you don't give a shit about that. You kick it in the teeth and watch the loose ones rattle free from it's mouth. It isn't moving by the time you stomp on it's skull, but it's for the satisfaction of the squelch.. And then you turn. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you see your dad. 

He's laying on his back, his hand curled tight around the top buttons of his shirt as he exhales a pained hiss. His expression's screwed up, distorted with agony and.. You force yourself to look down. The thing took out a solid chunk of his leg ripped out a mouthful that's gushing blood and you drop to try and press your hands over the hot, copper fluid. Desperately trying to stop the bloodflow.

 

"You're okay-" You start in a soft, growing hysterical stutter. You grip the wound despite the fact he howls in pain. You try so hard to squeeze it hard enough without hurting him worse.. But.. "It's going to be okay, dad- It barely got you." 

"Fuck-" You freeze up. You've only heard you dad swear once before.  
When you were a little kid who fell down the stairs, bumping your head and landing in a sobbing, pathetic heap. You had scared the life out of him and he rushed you to a hospital. You remember being clutched to his chest and hearing him whisper ' _Fuck_ ' under his breath. 

Now, he was the hurt one. 

"You're- You're going to be okay, Dad-"

"Fuck-FuckFuckFuck-" Your teeth grit and tears water up in your eyes. Hoarse, raspy breaths get stuck in your throat and you struggle to keep your breathing even. "John-"

"Dad-"

"John-John- I'm- I'm sorry- I'm-- _Fuck_ \- I'm sorry-" He groans in agony and you fumble with soaking wet hands. You avert your gaze from the missing flesh in his leg and look up at him.. He's crying. Oh, God. He's crying. 

"Dad- I- I don't- I don't know- I don't know what to do, I need help-" 

You both know there's nothing to do, no cure for this illness seeping into his blood.. If he doesn't bleed out first. 

"Breathe- Breathe, John." He advises as he hears your breath grow raspy and hoarse. You struggle with it like you struggle with his leg. "I'm so.. Proud of you." He states. You know why he's saying this and your teeth grind together.

"Dad- You're going to be okay, this is- It's nothing- It's just a little.. It's nothing."

"Take my bag.. Keep going."

"I don't want to." You can't breathe- Fuck you can't breathe. He reaches haphazardly and his hand settles on your knee and you let out another heaving sob. "Please- Don't-"

"You can do it.. You can do it, John.. I know you can." His fingers curl and squeeze your knee and you cry a little harder. 

"Dad.."

"Just.. Just leave.. Just leave me here, okay?" You shake your head. You can't see straight, but he insists. Pushes your kneecap and your hands slip away from his wound. They're burning with blood and you feel your stomach churn. "I'm so proud of you.. So proud.."

Instead of getting up, like he insisted, and leaving him there. You fall on him, pressing your face into his chest and sobbing like a child.

You can't leave him here. You can't. You don't have it in you. Even when his breathing grows shallow and his words slip into incoherency. Even when you can't feel his pulse and the puddle beneath him has more blood then his body does. It takes a sound not too unlike a death rattle for you to move again. 

You've stained your clothes with fresh blood and now, your hammer as well. You shoulder two heavy backpacks and find yourself unable to stop sobbing, even as you refuse to take a break again, and walk through the cold night air.


	4. Sing Me To Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade Harley's island paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Jade's turn now. Safe and sound on the island, how bad could it be?  
> She does have a couple little bumps along the way.   
> Be aware of gross zombie stuff in my gross zombie fic.

You love this.

Sitting in the grass, just before the sand. Watching the sun slip down beneath the ocean waves and the stars twinkle to life in the night sky. It's better then you could ever ask for.   
Well.. Maybe you could ask for some company. Not that Bec isn't the best bud you could ask for! He's just.. A very poor conversationalist. In fact, he won't even look at you as you try to talk to him about the constellations. How rude. You always pay attention when he speaks.

Your name is Jade Harley. You are eightteen years old. You talk to a dog as though he's a human, because he's the closest thing to human contact you have most of the time. Even when you manage to have a good stretch of time, when your wifi works.. It's not the same. You miss the days where you'd get to see people.  
Even if they were just visitors from the mainland, even if they were just nice men bringing you supplies-Per the order of your grandfather..

Your grandpa.

You miss him the most, you're certain of it. You're not sure what happened to him.. He'd been on a trip when the infection began. Somewhere in the central US, you think. That's what he said, right?   
You wish you'd paid more attention. 

There'd been no sign of him in all the time you'd been alone. And, once things got bad.. No sign of anyone. You do try not to complain.. Really, you have it SUPER good here. Even if your only company is Bec.

You have your garden, flourishing with more food then you could possibly eat. Even if you _did_ eat it all, your island had a vast array of food growing on it. If you ever got _really_ desperate, there was wildlife and, well, the entire ocean. Filled with fish! And other creatures. You're never in danger of going hungry.  
Beside that, you have a steady water supply. Clean, too.   
Your home, sturdy and strong, was built to weather anything. Self-sustaining, weather resistant, it's really a fortress. You would even venture so far as to call it Heavenly. 

Beside you, Bec lets out the first noise you've heard from him all day. It was one of his louder growls.. Which was a massive sound, considering the dog was nearly as tall as you, but you don't take the time to consider the volume of his warning and instead heed it. You push yourself upright and fix your glasses, following his aggressive attention. 

Sure enough, there's a.. Something on the shore. It isn't the first time you've seen this. Corpses marring the pristine sand of your beach, leaving blood of dark, murky shades in the water behind them. Sometimes they were moving, sometimes they weren't. This one was. It had spotted you, you assume. 

You assume the waterlogged creature isn't a threat, but you rise anyway. Better to be safe then sorry. Your trusty rifle isn't far off. Grandpa's orders. Never leave home without it.  
You trudge through the sand with the dog at your heels. His snarls continue, even though you both have addressed the threat. He won't stop until it's gone. You know this. 

"Easy, boy! I've got it."

"Brrroof."

"I said I've got it!"

You try to calm him anyway.

This things worse to look at up close. It gurgles out a wet snarl as you near it, clawing lines in the sand as it attempts to crawl toward you. It's legs don't seem to work, and you can guess why. They're bent at wrong angles. Bone juts out from it's right shin and.. Where even was it's foot? Ew. 

It's so waterlogged, it seems to be a miracle it's held together at all. It's skin is straining to hold in it's body, it seems. It looks like if the skin split, the entire thing would just fall off the bone without any extra help. The thought makes you pull a face. 

You decide to put the thing out of it's misery as it coughs out seawater and rancid blood. You level the barrel of your rifle with it's head and pull the trigger. It's skull pops like a balloon and you groan in disgust. That was.. Quite the mess.. 

You drag your hand through your hair and let your eyes roll as you groan. Bec's still snarling beside you.. Weird, he usually stops by now. You glance over at him, ready to tell him to hush.. But he's not looking at the dead one at your ankles. He's looking down the shore. 

You swear under your breath.

At least three more of these things are sprawled in the sand, in various states of rot. You feel chills run down your spine as you realize one of them is getting up. It's standing. It's looking at you, oh God-- 

You fire the first shot haphazardly. It whistles through the air and buries in the trunk of a palm tree. The first time you've missed your shot in ten years, because your hands are shaking so bad. The second shot connects with it's forehead as it starts a slow, wobbly run toward you. It's head snaps back, followed by the rest of it.

Bec starts barking, which makes the other two seem to come more alive. They gurgle and snarl, trying to will their decaying legs to pick up their corpses but they're struggling. You waste no time in giving each of them a shot to the head that puts them out, for good. You don't want to let them get to their feet. God Forbid one of them charge at you again. Just seeing one standing made you panic.

You click the safety and let the gun hang on it's strap. Bec seems satisfied with your work, but his hackles are still raised. 

"Rattled you too, huh?"

"Boof."

You breathe deeply and do a once over. Verifying the shots went through their skulls, a quick double check to make sure they wouldn't get up again.. And you find yourself feeling queasy. You don't have it in you to move the bodies and burn them, like you'd usually been doing.. You'll find the willpower later on. But for now, you ruffle the fur between Bec's ears and start your trek back to the house. Bec stays close beside you. 

It isn't a long walk from the beach to your home, but it feels like it takes forever today. You enter the cool chill of the entry hall and feel a little shiver run down your spine. Bec pushes past you and makes his way to his spot. Your Grandpa set it up ages ago, a big fluffy dog bed beside the only staircase in the house.

 _"He's a guard dog."_ He'd told you. _"He'll be on guard here."_

Your grandpa never counted on the two of you bonding as much as you did. His guard dog became yours and the two of you were inseperable outside the house. When you were inside, he sat near the stairs. Watchful guardian.

"Good dog." You praise him as you head up the stairs. You see his head lift and his ears flick. "Best friend!" Now, he's satisfied. His head lays on his paws and you smile.  
You swear, he's such a dork.

You leave your rifle in it's usual place and kick off your shoes, leaving them haphazardly sprawled by the bedroom door. You'll change into pajamas once you've tried your computer. You drop into the plush computer chair and tuck your legs beneath you, watching the monitor flicker to life. You give a little thanks to the computer Gods as Pesterchum loads up.

You've got a message from John _hours_ ago. All it says is:

\-- ectoBiologist has begun pestering gardenGnostic. --

EB: jade?

\-- ectoBiologist is offline. --

You can't help but pout a little at the realization you missed him.. That's a bummer. But, you suppose, you'll be able to message him sometime tomorrow.. No use pestering his offline accoutnt right now. Knowing him, he wouldn't be around until morning, anyway.

Next up is Rose.

\-- tentacleTherapist has begun pestering gardenGnostic. --

TT: Hello?  
TT: I must have missed you.  
TT: Either way, this will probably be the last time I message you.

Your stomach drops. 

TT: Before you go panicking about me, I should let you know that this won't be the last time you ever hear from me.  
TT: I've been thinking about.. Well. Everything we discussed.   
TT: I'm going to try and get to Houston, first. Someone needs to get Dave out of that apartment before something goes wrong.  
TT: And  
TT: Well, Honestly, I need to get out of this bunker. I can't stay here any longer.  
TT: I won't have any way of getting ahold of you once I'm on the road and I am sorry for that, Jade. But I'll be sure to let you know once I get to Dave's.   
TT: Or I'll have Dave tell you..  
TT: From Dave's, we'll be heading from the coast. I'll make him get off his lazy ass..  
TT: I'll talk to you soon, Jade.

\-- tentacleTherapist is now ofline. --

You're torn somewhere between excitement and distress. On the one hand, Rose and Dave might show up! You'll have two of your best friends here, safe and sound with you! You won't have to worry about them anymore.. But.. on the other.. You lean back and look out the window.

How are they going to even get here?

You pinch the bridge of your nose, rubbing away an oncoming headache. The last pesterchum box is Dave's.

\-- gardenGnostic is offline. --  
TG: shit  
TG: did you lose internet again?  
\-- turntechGodhead is offline. -- 

..Everyone's away or unavailable. This hasn't happened in a while. Someone's almost always online when you get on..

\-- gardenGnostic has begun pestering turntechGodhead. --

GG: hey dave!!  
GG: youre offline, i know, but uh.  
GG: when you get online again  
GG: we need to talk!!   
GG: about rose  
GG: and you probably definitely know shes doing..  
GG: just.. message me when you get back.

You don't want to power your computer down, especially after you just got it working again.. But you don't want to leave it running. You sigh softly as you turn it off and leave your desk behind. Trudging steps carry you to your bed, where you flop into it. Pajamas be damned. 

You sniffle a little as you curl up around plush toys lining your bed. Your face is buried deep in the soft, fluffy fabric and you curl up into a tight little ball. Really, all you wanted was for _someone_ to tell you it's going to be okay..  
You guess..  
You'll just tell yourself it again.

But you can't find your voice and you're certain that even if you could, it would just crack. You brush your glasses away, leaving them on the far end of your bed and let your tears wet the back of a squiddle's head.

You need to sleep.

Everything's going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, the last of the kids.   
> With all their situations set up and shown off, I'm going to stop shifting from kid to kid every chapter after this one.


	5. How Bad Could This Be?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave Strider gets a SPECIAL SURPRISE!

Reluctantly, you come to a blearly conciousness around dawn. Dull beeping from the alarmclock on your nightstand stirs you from a pleasant dream. Something foggy, but comfortable. You grumble a little in protest and tug your blanket over your shoulder, then your head.

You know you can't stay in bed all day, but it's fun to pretend you have that chance.

Your name is Dave Strider. 

It's been two weeks, three days, five hours, and twelve minutes since you lost contact with two of your best friends.

Or, well, you assume it's been that.  
You know it's at least been two weeks and three days.

You can't even think about John without getting a painful twist in your gut. Some cool-kid you are. You can't even bring up his name without feeling your eyes water. 

In these last two weeks, you've gone through the stages of grief over John. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression.. Well, you're still struggling with the acceptance thing. Heck, you're still struggling with the getting over the fact that he's probably dead. You'll never hear from him again. You really need to get it through your thick skull.. But then again, you're still here hoping for your Bro to come home..

Which now brings you to the second weight on your mind. 

Rose.

Part of you hopes that she's still locked up in her bunker. Maybe just ignoring you and pouting because she couldn't leave.. But that doesn't sound very much like her. You don't want to acknowledge that she might be dead, too.. 

It's too early to be thinking like this. You can't handle it. 

At least.. Jade's okay?

Spooked, sure. She's been having a big problem with more of the undead washing up on her shore.. But she's taking care of it. Regular trips around the island means she's always aware of the corpses on her shore. They don't have the chance to get enough stability to get to their feet.. And she's started locking the door at night, too. 

You wish you had one friend you could just trust that they would stay safe.

You still have chores you need to do. You grunt quietly as you push your warm blankets away and roll upright. Just a note disoriented. But it washes away soon enough. 

Your bedhead is laughable, you can tell without even really looking at it. It always is. Blond hair flipping in all sorts of wild directions. There's no need to comb it anymore, so you just have this unsightly rat's nest. 

You stretch your arms up and over your head and wince as the ache in your muscles.   
You really need to sit down and work on just honing your strength someday.. It seemed that even regular trips out, risking life and limb, weren't quite enough to spare you from a risidual ache. 

Your bare feet touch the ground and you rise off your bed. You consider your shades, sitting on the nightstand. Lone and forgotten. Scuffed up and dirty..  
You remember a time when you wouldn't dare leave your room without them.

After breakfast. 

You've made a habit of eating the most at breakfast. Fuel for your body, keep you running all day long. That kind of garbage. 

As you slip from the dimly light confines of your room, you're graced with the natural light of the hallway. You squint a little and trudge along. You're humming some kind of old jingle, but the words are lost to you.. But you think it's got something to do with cats. Probably. Maybe. Is it a catfood themesong? You're not sure. You think so. As you step out of the hall and into the livingroom, you bump a smuppet out of the way with your toes and--

"Is that the Meow Mix theme song?"

" ** _Jesus Christ!_** "   
You, in all your infinite grace and glory, slip on the smuppet. You go tumbling to the floor in a terrified heap, looking a lot like a woodland creature. Bambi, slipping and falling on the ice. Your elbows hit hard enough to send spikes of pain through your bones, but you don't register it. Your eyes are wide as you focus on the voice and your eyebrows crease together. Your voice cracks when you find it again.  
" _Rose?_ "

She smiles.

For a brief moment, you consider that this is a hallucination. She's not actually here, right? How the fuck did she even get here--

"You know, you could have told me you were on the top floor. I spent half the night trying to figure out what part of the damn building you were in. I must have tried a dozen doors before I had the genius notion that you'd be way up here, hiding away from the world like Rapunzel.." She pauses, her gaze roaming over you and your pajamas. "Do you always sleep in your boxers?"

Without thinking twice about it, you cover your bits with your hands. Even if there is something else covering them.   
Rose smirks a little in amusement. 

"Usually I sleep in the nude." You retort. And she laughs. You're caught between angry, indignant, and ridiculously happy.   
On the one hand, your hearts still pounding and you feel a little queasy from getting startled so badly..

On the other..

She's alive. 

Holy _shit_.

She's alive. She's here. You aren't alone anymore.

Fuck being angry, you're so ridiculously happy that you're _grinning_ like a fool.

She moves closer to your sprawled form and offers you a hand up.   
You take the help and proceed to use your hold on her arm to yank her into a tight, bone crushing hug. There's no complaint from her. 

"Peeyew, Rose." You mutter against her shoulder. You feel her gripping you back just as tight. The two of you are clinging onto one another desperately. Even if you both smell like the undead themselves. "You smell like shit."

"Thanks." She gives a disdainful snort, a sound that practically has the sound of her eyes rolling melted into it. "So do you." 

Both of you laugh. Quiet and wet with tears you're both refusing to acknowledge.   
No, no. You don't have time for that.   
(Technically, you have all the time in the world. But neither of you have ever been comfortable with addressing your emotions.)   
You do have time for a good, solid, ten minutes of just clinging to eachother. It's only broken by the eventual needy gurgle of your own stomach. Rose unhinges first. Leaning back from you to squeeze your shoulders. 

"Jesus, Strider, are you even eating? You're practically a toothpick." 

You're well aware of how gaunt and bony you are, but then again you haven't exactly been dining in the lap of luxury every night.. Frankly, with how stingy you are with your resources, it's a miracle you haven't just starved to death..   
And Rose doesn't look much better, either. She's as lean and boney as you are. She's even got a fresh cut across her cheek. From just beneath her eye down to the jaw.. You'll ask about it later. 

You quirk a smile, giving her a little bit of an affectionate squeeze. "I have a chip every now and again. But since it's a special occasion, we can have real meals." She scoffs softly. Using her hold on your shoulders to push you away from her. Leaving her free to step away from you and toward the couch. You hear her muttering about how ridiculous you are and you don't even mind. It's just.. So nice not to be alone.

"Like the good houseguest I am," She starts, returning back to you and presenting her bag. "I come bearing gifts. A bag of expired chips and three cans of chili.. I would have offered more, but I ate it already."

You feign offense as you head back into your bedroom. Clothes. Clothes are good. You don't want to run around in your boxers in front of Rose. "How _dare_ you, Rose Lalonde. Have you no manners? All your provisions belong to me."

"I already got into your water stash, too."

"You _monster!_ "

You tug on a t-shirt and jeans. Comfy and casual. You spare a half a second trying to tame your hair, but quickly give up. Rose's doesn't look any better. Before you leave the room, your trusty shades are picked up. Tucked into your shirt for later. 

"I'm a true fiend, I know." Rose calls from the kitchen. You join her shortly after, smirking slightly as you watch her purposefully take a sip of water.

"Monster." You whisper. 

"Dweeb."

"Squatter."

"Nudist."

"Shut up."

You snort out a laugh and go for one of those cans lying around. Your limited supplies put together with Rose's? Means.. You still have limited supplies. But hey. Splurging for one day isn't that bad, is it? You reason it isn't. You'll just have to go twice as hard next time you go on a meal run. 

Oh. You do need to double supplies now, don't you?  
Shit.

You exhale a little puff of breath as you pop open the lid to the can. Rose notices your dip in mood and slowly sets her cup aside. The heels of her hands rest on the countertop as she leaned back against the sturdy surface.

"You, uh. You hungry?" You interupt, the moment you see her mouth starting to open. You don't give her the chance to question you. You can tell from just _looking_ at her that she is. Breakfast it is. "I usually heat this stuff up on the barbeque.. And eat it up on the roof. Do you want to go with me, or should I bring it back down, or--"

"We can eat on the roof. What's the harm in a little safe fresh air?" You bob your shoulders in a lazy shrug, picking out one of the pans that at least _looks_ the cleanest and forks in similar condition.   
(Ew.) 

You don't summon her to follow. You just trust that she will. And she does. You lead the way up to the roof, then to the barbeque. Some little part of you considers the use of the microwave, but you keep your power usage to a pretty desperate minimum. Just in case. With your hands now free, you slip your shades onto your face and begin the process of prepping and heating up your shared meal. "There's probably another chair hiding somewhere up here," You point out to Rose, once you realize she's just been standing there. "Feel free to set it up next to mine."

"Your nest?" She teases. You snort out a laugh.

"Caw, caw."

Now that you think about it, it's probably a miracle your nest hasn't become some lucky bird's nest. You should start bringing your rooftop blankets indoors when you're not using them.. From the corner of your eye, you notice Rose dragging a folding chair over. Good. 

If she'd come around sooner. Before your Bro had inexplicably disappeared. There would have been a chair there for her.  
But you kind of got rid of that.

In a fit of betrayed, hurt anger, you'd ended up kicking the poor chair that had belonged to him across the roof, before taking it in hand and throwing it with all your might over the edge of the building. You watched it fall all the way down.  
It had not comforted you at all.

You still felt abandoned and alone..

..Seeing the chair manage to bullseye a walker in the head _did_ comfort you, though.   
(Part of you wonders where that chair and the zombie attached to it went.) 

You shift the contents of the pan, trying to make sure that the meal gets a nice, full cook. It mayb be a little on the crisp ( _burnt_ ) side when you abandon the barbeque and lay the pan on the building's edge and flop into your chair. 

"Breakfast is served."

"Mm, I love a good bowl of chilli in the morning."

"Watch the sarcasm, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this."

"I noticed. It seemed really difficult to jostle a pan occasionally."

She leans over and takes a fork from your hand with a playful smirk and you scoff at her. 

"You're kind of a shitty house guest, Rose."

"Or maybe you're just a shitty host."

God, you missed banter like this. Even if the two of your are just being assholes back and forth. It's so fucking nice to talk out loud and get an actual human being speaking in return. She takes a bite and you notice her nose crinkle. But she doesn't say anything. There's no sincere bashing on your cooking.   
(Even though when you take a bite of it yourself, your nose scrunches as well. What did you even do wrong? Was this can already expired?)

For a while, the two of you just eat your shared meal in a dull silence. And then you give up on self control.

"Don't take this the wrong way," ('Oh Boy.') "How did you.. You know.. Not die?" 

She scoffs a little, her hands running through her hair as she leans back and forsakes the food. You watch the way her lips press together and her gaze roves over the skyline. 

"I.. Well, I did what I had to do. I used my mother's car to get about half-way here.." You notice the way her voice trembles at the mention of her mother, but you don't dare point it out. "And then I walked."

"Did you have any.. Trouble?"

"From the flesh-eating maggot-vessels? Of course. What surprised me was the living,"

"Wait, _what?_ "

She breathes out a _bitter_ little laugh. Cloudy gaze downcast to her lap. "Shit, Dave, did you honestly expect human deceny to still be a thing?" You don't respond. You're too busy feeling the heat of a protective anger burn into your chest. When you let the silence hang, Rose continues. "They wanted my bag, I wouldn't give it to them. Simple as that." 

"Is that how you got the.."

"Yes."

"..What happened?"

Her dark expression lingers, _hardens_. You'd almost say she looks haunted if she didn't look so fired up from just the memory. "I put them down." You're a little ashamed of the nausea in your gut. "They were no better then the fucking corpses walking around. Why should I let them live to hurt someone else? I put a bullet in one's head and the other's kneecaps. I'm fairly certain he deserved to bleed out on a desolate street corner. If the gunshots didn't attract the undead, first."

You're.. Speechless.

God, Damn. You had no idea. You're kind of baffled. You understand that Rose did what she had to do. Mostly. But.. God, the fact that she actually managed to.. Do it? You really hope you never have to deal with something like that. For all your bravado, you aren't comfortable with the notion of taking another human's life. 

"I'm sorry." You croak the words out after a long, looming silence. She brushes at her eyes and you wonder if she was even comfortable with what she did. 

You don't plan on asking.

"It is what it is." She states evenly.. And you decide to leave it at that.

"I'm glad you're here, anyway. Sure, I was worried. But I should have known better. Of course some fuckin' corpses wouldn't be able to keep you down." When she laughs, you feel a ittle better. A little less nauseous and angry. You reach a hand over and give her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. Her hand lays over yours and her fingers curl a little. The two of you sit in another pensive silence

"And, ah. What have I missed among our peers? Drama? Is there a new bully in town? Who's prom king and queen?"

"We were nominated, but I'm afraid we lost to Becky and Jason," ('Fuck them.') "Uh.. Did you get my message about John before you.." 

"John? What happened to John?"

"I thought you were going to check your messages again before you left."

"I lied."

You grunt a little and slip your fingers beneath your glasses, rubbing at your eyes like you're staving off an oncoming headache. Really, it's just tears. You regard yourself like a big cry-baby.

"He, uh. He's gone M-I-A."

"What does that mean, Dave?"

"The car broke down and he disappeared in the middle of talking to me. Jade and I haven't heard a peep from him since.. Pretty much the day you left."

You glance at her and catch the brief flicker of genuine sadness. Your heart aches. 

"So.. You think he's.."

"I don't want to admit it."

You hear her mumbling swears under her breath and you don't comment. You're trying to take deep breaths to keep yourself from getting to emotional. Interanally swearing at yourself in between each slow, long inhale 

"This is why we need to try and get to Jade."

" _What_?" You nearly choke on your deep breaths. "You can't be serious."

She nods solemnly and you card your hands through your hair, looking at her like she'd sprouted a second head right before your eyes. "Did you think I was bullshitting you?" You give a little nod and she laughs. A little bitterly. "When I said that was my plan, I wasn't kidding. That's my plan. Our plan."

"Why can't we stay here?"

"It isn't practical. It's in the heart of the hoards, with no decent food source and limited water."

"We don't even know how to _get_ to Jade's island. Even if we were lucky enough to find a boat--Hell, even if we're lucky enough to get to a beach!"

"We can get the coordinates, figure it out. How hard can it be?"

" _Really fucking hard._ " You stress, trying to get through to her that this is not a good idea. She's undetoured. God Dammit, why is she a stubbornass like you. 

"We'll get some rest tonight, you'll pack your things, and we'll be out by dawn."

Now it's your turn to swear under your breath. No, wait. You're swearing above. Muttering in a tone that was practically your regular speaking voice, you get up and out of your chair and start to pace. Rose watches you silently.

"You know how fucking stupid this is, right?"

"I'm aware."

"We're both going to die."

"And we'll die if we stay here."

Your back is turned to her as you pick your brain. Sure, you could try making a garden.. But how hard would that be? You'd have to give half your water to plants, and even then you'd have to worry about it on the roof. Whether it was drowned or blown away..

"God dammit."

"Breathe, David."

"I hate this."

"I know."

"I hate you."

"I know."

Somewhere in the middle of your back-and-forth she rose and moved up behind you. Gently turning you, she brought you close to her in a tight hug. You lean into it as you review all the ways this could go wrong. She's going to die right in front of you, if you don't die first. And if the two of you don't die.. What if..

What if your Bro comes home?

"You're insufferable."

"So are you." 

"When we die, I get to say I told you so."

"Sounds like a fair deal. I'll take the full blame."

You stay like that for a while. Rose holding onto you, gently assuring you that nothing will go wrong. You'll be safe.   
You don't trust a word out of her mouth, but the more she speaks, the more you realize you're going stircrazy. Caught between terror and a _stupid_ sense of excitement. It's enough to make you feel sick. Eugh. 

Rose helps you pack. You pack a change of clothes, an old firstaid kit you scavenged a couple weeks ago, and the food. Rose tries to get you to take at least one sentimental object with you.. But you tell her you'll be back for it someday. Somehow, that makes you feel better about the concept of leaving this place. Even if you probably won't ever return. Pretending is nice.   
You confide your brother concerns to Rose, while she's coordinating directions from Jade before her internet goes kaput again. She has to pause and give you a glance that makes your ears burn with shame. 

In the end, while Rose is writing down the directions in her own journal, you're writing them down on a sheet of paper you'll leave on the counter. If he comes home, he'll know where to find you.

If.

This is, of course, if you even live.. But you can't figure what's worse. Rotting in an empty building or dying with adrenaline running through your veins, at your best friend's side..  
You're not ready to die, but you.. Guess.. You're ready to try living. 

In the silence as you fall asleep, you think about how much you hate Rose Lalonde, and how she is definitely going to get you killed.


	6. New Friends? Ew.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and Dave's adventure is interrupted by some scraggly strangers!

Your lungs are screaming in protest. 

Your heart pounds in your ear drums.

This feels way too fucking familiar.

You cast a brief glance over your shoulder to confirm that, yes, there are still shambling corpses clawing at the air behind you and trying to catch up, desperately reaching for the baggy, bright red fabric of your shirt. You feel like a rodeo clown, taunting corpses.

Your name is Dave Strider and you're getting real fucking sick of running everywhere.

When you look forward again, Rose is looking back at you. Shouting.. Something. What is she shouting? You have no idea. You can barely understand her over the shrieking coming from behind you. She seems to take the dazed look on your face in stride, and she shoves you down an alleyway instead of contining to try and tell you to go that way. Your sudden detour makes the walkers crash into eachother, the five corpses stumbling and falling over eachother in gorey mess.

You and Rose run faster. She zips around a car, you slide your ass over the hood and roll to the ground. You can hear the frustrated sound from her, but you barely wasted more then a couple seconds before you guys are running again. 

"We've-We've got to be getting out-out of the city-" You pant, sides heaving as you chance slowing down to a jog. The fiends pursuing you seem to have gotten caught up in their disorganized pile..

Or.. Maybe they were distracted.

You don't want to think about that.

"We would.. Would have been.. A lot closer.. If we hadn't been chased.. In circles.."

You groan and Rose gives some kind of incoherent agreement. 

You two managed to get out of one big city, into a smaller one. Just as crawling with the undead. just as scary. 

Rose claims to know where she's going. She says she memorized the map, she knows which way to go. But you've lived in Texas all your life, and you don't think she knows jackshit about where she's taking you.

Somehow, miraculously, she leads you two to a long, desolate stretch of freeway. Empty enough that you two can slow down to a walk. Gather your breath and lean on eachother for support when your aching legs threaten to give out.

"Can I say this was fucking stupid yet?" You mutter, sliding a hand through your sweat soaked hair and grimacing in disgust. 

"You can say it was fucking stupid if we're dead. That's it."

"I'm dead. Look at me. I'm fucking dying."

She forces out a laugh.. But it's wheezy and raspy. She's just as exhausted as you are.

"We don't have any water to spare, do we?"

"Afraid not, Strider."

You groan all over again and you can practically hear Rose's teeth grinding. Your whining is definitely getting on her nerves, but to be fair she made you leave.

"There's gotta be a Buckees around here."

"A what?"

"Y'know. Buckees. Big gas stations, best place to stop and shit on a roadtrip."

"That's disgusting."

"Can I get a Buckee Beaver, Ma'? Can I, can I, pleeeease?"

She takes a slow, deep breath. 

You begin to think you antagonized her just a little too much for banter.

"You know very well, David, that you do not need another stuffed animal. You have too many already."

That's a relief.

"Aww, Maaaaa.."

"No more whining, I will not have it for one second, young man." 

You exhale a chuckle and she shakes her head. 

Now, you walk in silence. Just two people--Two kids-- against the world. You and Rose..

You think you can make a rap for that, but before you have the chance to open your mouth, Rose has her hand on your chest. She stops you from walking in that one, easy movement. You look to her, but she isn't looking at you. She's looking at two trucks that have run off the road, almost in a V shape. One of them is tipped over, on it's side. You're about to question why she stopped you, but then you hear it. 

Voices. 

People talking.

They're hushed and hasty, both of you can gather immediately that whoever is hiding there knows you're there too.

You notice the way Rose's jaw sets, the scratch deep in her skin disturbed by the movement. She's already going for her gun. Your hands shake as you start to reach for the shitty kitchen-knife you packed. Your fingers curl around the handle when a voice picks up, sharp and loud from behind the trucks.

"Who goes there?"

You give Rose a look and uncontrollably silently mock the voice. Rose elbows you.

Not the time. Not the place.

"We're harmless." You holler back. Rose tucks her pistol into the back of her pants, her shirt pulled over it.

"Bullshit." The voice scoffs, you hear muttering toward it, but whoever it belongs to keeps talking. "If you are alive out here, then clearly you're not harmless."

"We're like fuckin' jackrabbits, faster then the speed of death." You quirk a smile to Rose. She rolls her eyes.

"We're just passing through. We don't mean any trouble."

There's a long silence.

"Vriska, Perhaps we should just--"

"Drop your weapons!"

"Vriska!"

And the human behind the voice emerges. Both you and Rose flinch. Her hand twitches, practically compulsively going for her gun, but she doesn't grab it. You draw your knife and..

Well..

You brought a knife to a gun-fight.

" _Drop it!_ " The girl- Vriska - snarls at you. The angry end of a very mean-looking shotgun aimed right at your head. Rose is seething with rage- You can feel it radiating off her like heat off a flame. You're reluctant to uncurl your fingers and let the blade drop. But when Vriska cocks her gun, that's enough for you to let it fall. 

" _Vriska!_ " Another human emerges from the safety of the trucks. She grabs the shaft of the gun and pushes it straight for the sky. 

"Kanaya- Let go!"

"Stop this, They have done nothing wrong-"

"Because I haven't given them the chance to!"

The newest member of the party proceeds to give Vriska a push directly by the chest. Her fingers slip away. Evidently, she'd rather resign to let Kanaya win, then take the risk. You didn't realize it, but somewhere in the middle of their bickering, you'd taken a step forward. Your arm draped over Rose protectively..

A gesture she doesn't give a shit for as she pushes past you.

"We mean no harm."

Vriska looks between Kanaya and Rose. Practically daring her to shoot. Kanaya doesn't. She smiles in a such a soft way, you're reminded of a the TV descriptions of Mothers. Sweet, gentle, and empathetic.

Clearly, she takes the state of you two into consideration. Too boney to fit into your clothes. Your hair looks like twin rat's nests. Rose's cut is beginning to look infected. And you both look.. Exhausted. 

She clearly pities the state of your rag-tag team.

"Why don't you two join us-"

" _What_?" 

"We don't have much to offer, but you could at least take a seat and rest your legs."

You don't trust that Vriska girl as far as you could throw her--Which wouldn't be very far. She's half a foot taller then you.-- But you're desperate for a break. You don't say anything, however. It's Rose who gets to decide what you do. She glances at you, then back to Kanaya. And she smiles andnods softly. "That would be lovely." 

You're already sliding your back-pack off your shoulder, danger forgotten as you trudge over, with Rose following behind you.

You notice Vriska is talking the poor girl's ear off, hissing into her eardrum until she's physically pushed away so Kanaya can welcome the two of you. Like Vriska, she is unfairly tall. Only a few inches, but she still has to look down on you.

Well.

More specifically. Rose. She looks down at Rose. You sit your ass down, lean up against the truck, and groan as your feet get a break.

And then you groan from the sight before you.

They're talking softly between the two of them. Pleasant, polite introductions. Discussing what each respective group was doing, but--

"Get a room." You snort.

Rose gives you a look that makes part of yoursoul wither up and die. Likely the intended outcome..

Really. You had no idea you were this tired.. Until you were sitting down. You push your bag over slightly before you curl up on the rough fabric. It isn't the most comfortable..But it feels great. Through bleary eyes, you watch Rose and Kanaya continue to talk. But you can't find it in you to be concerned with what they have to say.

You're just going to close your eyes for a second.

You're out like a light in a heartbeat. You can practically hear Rose chuckling as you pass out.


	7. The truest cure for loneliness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John was desperate for company and that's just what he gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, this took me forever to get out and it's not even that good.   
> Thank you to everyone still reading at this point? That means so much to me. 
> 
> I promise to start putting out more frequent chapters.

You are certain you've never been more exhausted in your life. Somewhere down the road, you tweaked something in your ankle. It was by sheer force and will that you managed to keep on going. Now that you've sat down, you're acutely aware of how badly it aches. It seems to throb and no position you put it in makes it feel right. You wish you hadn't stopped walking, now, you don't know how you'll start again.

 _Come on, John._ You imagine your father, sitting across the fire from you. You pretend the only reason you can't see him is because it's so dark. _You earned a break._

You'd scoff if you could spare the breath, but every one you have is concentrated toward pained hissing as you roll your ankle this way and that. No luck. Still hurts. Damn inconvenience.

You reason that, since you're stuck sitting there, you should make some use of your time. Dinner it is.   
(Just the thought of it makes your stomach gurgle. You can't remember if you ate at all yesterday and you know you didn't eat today. Maybe that's part of the reason you're hurting so badly.) 

Your backpack is tugged beside you and unzipped so you can rifle through the contents.. It is with great reluctance that you pick out one of the cans, with the label torn and askew. Something, something, CHUNKY, WITH BEANS.. At least it's food, right? You hope it's food. With a pocket knife, you pop the top off the can and proceed to poke at the contents.. Food? Close enough. You'll eat it, anyway. You lean over to your Dad's bag. You'd call it your bag but.. It's not. It's still his. He kept the cooking supplies, like the sturdy little pan. You haven't been able to clean it, so you're not going to pour the contents into it.. You're just going to precariously balance the can inside of it while it cooks. 

Up onto your knees, (Fuck, that hurts. How can you angle your ankle just right so it won't hurt anymore?), cooking is a mundane process. Your hand starts to burn on the handle, before you get the common sense to wrap it in your sweater sleeve. You guess that it's cooked for about ten minutes, based on how your arm starts to go numb and you can't stand to hold the pan any longer. It's set beside you while you sit back to get comfortable again.  
(As comfortable as you can get, sitting on the side of a road in the middle of the night.)

You're about to pick up the can when you hear.. Movement.

 _Look out, John,_ Your father's voice warns in the back of your mind. _You never know they're there, until it's too late._

You grunt in pain as you force yourself to your feet. Hammer clasped in your unsteady hands as you squint through the darkness and smudged glasses. In the back of your throat burns a challenge, ready to hiss 'Show yourself!', but you don't want unnecessary confrontation. If it'll keep on shuffling, you don't need to bring it's attention to you. (You think your father would be proud.)

The silence continues long enough for you to start to relax. With the assumption that the threat has passed, you start to kneel back down. Before you _actually_ sit, you hear movement again. Somewhere behind you. You're back on your feet and twirled around so quick, your sore ankle gives out and you nearly tip over backwards into the fire. It's a miracle that you stayed on your feet.

What's even more of a miracle is the fact that.. That's.. Not a walker.

That isn't even a person. 

It's just.. "A dog?" You mutter, taking in the sight of it. It looks like some kind of mutt. You'd guess it was a yellow Labrador, but it's small. You would chalk it up to the pooch being a puppy, but it doesn't look _young_.. Just small. And absolutely terrified. It seems more scared of you, then you are of it. Frozen in place, it's tail has tucked firmly between it's legs. It _whines_ at the sight of you and your heart shatters into a million pieces. You kneel back down, your knee aches from stray pebbles digging into it. "C'mere.. Here, puppy.." You beckon. Instead of approaching, it starts to retreat a couple paces. That's the last thing you want it to do. "No, no, no- Come here!" You try again. To no avail.

 _Poor thing.._ Your father's voice picks up in the back of your mind. _Looks hungry._

Hungry..

 _Of course!_ The dog must have smelled your dinner and came investigating the smell. Based on how many ribs you can count, you reason that hunger is the only reason you've spotted this dog today. 

Without thinking it through, you pick up the can. (Still a little warm. Ouch.) And you dump almost half the contents onto the pavement.

"Come on.. Come on, I know you've gotta be hungry." You say to it. The splatter of mystery meat and beans has goaded it into approaching though.. You hold your breath as the dog creeps closer and closer. "That's it.. There you go, good dog.." You praise. The dog's ears perk up slightly and when it's close enough.. Well. At least someone likes your dinner.  
(Shit, it's now dawned on you that you just wasted half a can of food on a stray dog.)

While it eats, you extend a hand slowly. The dog flinches and you brace yourself to lose a finger. The dog doesn't bite and seems just as surprised that you didn't lash at it. Gently, you brush your fingers over the dirty fur at the top of it's head and catch a glimpse of wagging tail. 

"There we go.. There.. Not so bad, am I?" You can't help but be a little amused. Your hand runs down the dirty fur and, once done licking the pavement clean, the dog creeps closer to you. Poor thing is still shaking while crawling entirely into your lap. "Oof-- Watch the paws! Ouch!" You laugh faintly, while the wagging tail thumps against your thighs now. It's head raises and you catch big sad eyes looking up at you. "Oh, fine. Good dog. Good dog." You mutter. Satisfied, the dog lays curled up on you.

You look down at your new friend with a warm flutter your heart. For the first time since you lost your father, you smile a little. You'll have to decide on a name, of course.. Clearly, this new friend of yours deserved a fitting title.

You think back to a conversation you'd had with your dad. _Before_ Hell hit. Begging him for a dog, promising to take the best care of it. He wanted you to prove you'd be responsible and.. Well, before you could actually get the dog..  
Maybe this was some pity the universe was taking on you. Either way, you know what you want to call your new friend.

"C'mon, Casey, I can't sit like this forever."


	8. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that Rose and Dave's new friends have _more_ new friends. Now, they just have to figure out how well they'll all get along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day to make up for my slow pace.

You're surprise he's still out.

When Dave passed out, the sun was still hanging in the sky and it had just been you, Kanaya, and Vriska.. 

Now? The sun had set. You would call the night an ominous darkness, but it was hardly dark. Since the night had set in, more people had returned. Your conversation with Kanaya, about where the two of you had come from and where you were going, was cut short by this. With Vriska announcing in frustration that Kanaya had, quote, "Endangered everyone!"

You get the feeling she is a bit of a drama queen. Especially so, based on how Kanaya's eyes roll and no one seemed to take her seriously at first. Until they _actually_ noticed you and Dave.

Now? There was a 'group meeting' being hosted by the short redhead who seemed to proclaim himself the leader. Members of their ragtag gang kept looking at the pair of you, once you moved to sit beside the sleeping Strider.   
(You decided that, until necessary, you would let him sleep. He needed the rest.)  
The only important pair of eyes catching the two of you was Kanaya's.. She kept looking back at _you_ before talking. You think you might be blushing by the third time you notice it. 

You wish you had a watch. All you want to know is how long it took them to finally break apart. Vriska does not seem happy with this. She settles a hand on her hip, sneering at the group before her before declaring _uncomfortably loudly_ , "Fine! But when they _inevitably_ betray us, don't come crying to me!"

 _Ah, yes_. You think sarcastically to yourself. _Inevitably._

It doesn't seem like anyone takes her outburst to heart.. (Except one of the girls, who follows seething Vriska away from the group with a cane tapping ahead of her.) But Dave is stirring beside you. Perfect timing, of course he missed waiting through all that. It doesn't matter. As he fidgets and starts to rise, Kanaya rejoins the two of you. She takes a seat on the ground next to you and, despite the composure she's displayed so far, she seems.. Ruffled.

"Would it be better for the structure of your group if Dave and I moved on as soon as possible?" You offer softly. You can't tell if the group breaking off into cliques around their camp was normal or not.. Reason tells you, this is average behavior. Your nerves tell you, it's your fault.

Kanaya shakes her head. She hasn't stopped looking toward the two girls sitting the furthest away. When you look, too, you notice they look like they're.. Conspiring. It doesn't make you nervous, until you catch Vriska looking your way. "No, no. You're fine. You do not need to leave until you two are ready." She finally looks at you. In the dim light, offered by makeshift torches and the start of a firepit nearby, you catch the shine of her green eyes. Something in your chest aches. "By the looks of it, Dave isn't quite ready for the road yet, _anyway._ " 

Now, both of you look over at him. It's almost amusing.. Sure, he'd begun to stir, but without any external help to rouse him he just.. Settled back in. (Bastard. He's making you tired.)  
"He needs the rest." Is all you can will yourself to say on the matter.

You rub your entire face and bump the gash in your cheek. Shit, that hurt. You try not to make it obvious, but you still winced. Kanaya clearly caught the sight. The concerned expression that twists across her face catches you off guard. 

"You've got a rather nasty gash there.."

You laugh a little dryly and turn your head away. You don't want her pity, it just makes it hurt more. She doesn't seem to get the memo, because she scoots closer to you. "Would you mind if I.. Got a little better look at it? If you wouldn't mind, I just want to check it for.. Infection?"

You swallow a lump in your throat, biting back the flare up of your ego and you nod.

You're glad you did.

Kanaya's hand is startlingly soft. (It should be illegal, it's the God-damn apocalypse!) Her nimble fingers catch your chin and tilt your head toward her. You feeling your heartbeat quicken in your chest as you're not only caught in her soft hands, but you're staring just right to see her stunning eyes in the perfect light. Everything about her is.. _Perfect_.

Her free hand is grazing around your gash and you can't even feel the pain from it. It feels like nothing more then the touch of a lover from all those sappy romantic movies you never believed in. Your throat feels dry as you lean your head a little more into her hand. 

She isn't looking at the cut anymore, she's looking in your eyes.

 _God_ , you barely know her, but it feels so right to be.. This close..

"Are you guys going to fucking kiss?"

Kanaya jumps, which means her fingers jab into your cut. You promptly cry out in pain and recoil, both hands cupping your cheek. Kanaya is beside herself with endless apologies, her hands fumbling awkwardly for somewhere to lay sympathetically on you.

You're going to fucking kill him.

You can hear him, snickering under his breath.  
He's lucky you weren't directly facing him, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to stop yourself from breaking his nose.   
With one good deathglare through narrowed eyes, he goes quiet. You don't succeed in wiping the smirk from his face, however.

You watch Dave stretch out, arms up over his head and his back audibly popping. "Jeez, how long was I out? What did I miss?"

"You slept through the apocalypse, it's time to go home." You respond dryly. One of your hands leaves your cheek.. Wet, fresh blood. Kanaya looks absolutely mortified. "No, I've decided we're going to continue our detour longer and get to know our kind hosts."

Dave raises his eyebrows and sinks back down on his bag.

"Fuck, I'm going to sleep some more then. Wake me when we're back on the road."

With a glance back at Kanaya, you find yourself uncertain on how quickly you're going to get back to traveling.


	9. Split decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave's adventures with making new friends.

Rose and Kanaya get along like bandits planning a heist. 

Ever since you interrupted their _moment_ about.. Fuck, you're guessing it's been a week now. They've been inseparable. To the point where she keeps leaving you alone with all these strangers.. She keeps acting like she hasn't heard you asking when you're going to keep traveling. You don't feel right with this group. You just want to get to Jade already, dammit.  
You're thinking, bitterly, about the whole thing. Watching Rose mingling with Kanaya, over by the crack in the pavement making way for the growth of foliage. They're laughing and talking about things you can't hear from this far away. It's not about leaving, you know that much. You're going to have to drag Rose off, kicking and screaming..

Really, she's the one who said you two should go. She made you leave your home, take to the road. She should be leading the charge. Not..  
 _God_ , is she flirting? You think she's flirting.

" _Hey!_ " You jolt out of your thoughts when the voice picks up behind you. Your head tilts to look back at the oncoming threat and you have to resist the urge to groan at the sight. It's Vriska who shouted at you. (Did she have no volume control?) 

You run a hand through your hair and push yourself up off the ground. Something in your back pops and you wince a little, what you wouldn't give for a backrub right now. "Whass'up, Vriska? Someone piss in your cornflakes again?"

She doesn't look amused.

"If I had cornflakes for someone to piss in, maybe." She's got you there. You're about to ask her to specify, but she holds up her hand to stop you. "You can't keep sitting around like a useless lug. Since you and Rose are _staying_ so long. You're either going to have to pull your weight around here, or get lost."

You can't help but look back at Rose. She's wandering off with Kanaya and you're a little irritated, to say the least.

"I'd be happy to help, however I can--"

And, again, Vriska interrupts you. "Good! You're joining Karkat and Terezi's group today, they'll take you out to town and and you'll do what they ask. Got it?"

"Wait--"

"Good. Don't die."

With that, she's off. 

You're left standing there, shoulders slumped, throat dry.

Who the fuck was Karkat and Terezi?

You look around the camp, there's at least four extra people milling around and.. You don't know any of their fucking names. You know Kanaya, you know Vriska.. The rest of them are an enigma. Fuck. Now you have to go socialize with these fucking strangers and Rose isn't even around to back you up. You're used to having someone to help you, someone nearby to act like a buffer or a shield. You hide behind them until you're comfortable and then you make your way to the front.

Deep breath, Strider.

Reluctantly, you start to walk toward one of the pairings, separate from the rest of them. The taller of the two is a gangly looking guy, one of the lenses on his glasses is popped out of them entirely. He's got shaggy hair that almost obscures the fact that the legs of the glasses are mismatched colors. Red and blue. He gives you a look as you get closer and you almost stop and retreat entirely. Immediately, you feel like you're invading on their private conversation. Before you get the chance to flee, however. Grumpy-ass' companion, the girl with the ridiculously big, bubbly grin and the splatters of rancid blood across her clothes waves you over.

Shit.

Your cool-guy facade is ramped up to an incredibly high level. Stay cool, Strider, they're just people. "Yo," You start. Your voice sounds raspy and you clear your throat immediately. It's irritating that you catch the gangly guy laughing at you. He looks like a twig and you're pretty sure that you could kick his ass if it came down to it. Hell, you could kick most people's asses.. You just don't really like to. "How's it hanging? Don't think we've been introduced." 

Nice. Casual. Covers up the fact that you haven't bothered to say anything to them..  
Come to think of it, you're not certain that you've really seen them lingering around the camp all that much.

The bubbly girl extends a hand to you, very nearly jabbing you in the chest with it. (Fuck, her hands are covered in.. That looks like blood. But it's dried.) You don't really want to shake her hand. But you reach out and take her hand and give it a light shake. "Hey! Dave, right? Nice to finally meet you!" Shit. She knows your name. You feel awful. "I'm Aradia, that's Sollux."

Sollux, as he's been introduced, waves halfheartedly at you. You give him a nod in return. 

"Uh. Yeah. Dave. Nice to meet you guys." You can't exactly leave now.. But you're pretty sure you'll get chewed out by Vriska if you wait too long.

"Glad to thee you're done moping." You're almost caught off guard by Sollux talking. You look over at him, eyebrows raised. Aradia elbows him, but her smile hasn't faltered. If anything, her silent scolding makes him actually smile as well.

"I'm not- I haven't been _moping_." You retort, a little too defensively. 

Aradia chimes in this time. "You've been sulking."

"I _haven't been sulking_."

Sollux snorts a laugh at you, before turning his head toward Aradia. He raises a hand to talk behind it, like you won't be able to hear him speaking at the exact same volume. "He's just mad that his girlfriend isn't spending time with him anymore."

You're absolutely _floored._ You shake your head, interrupting that train of thought immediately. "She is _not_ my girlfriend!"

"I _told_ you they were siblings."

What the Fuck--

Were there really rumors floating around about you two?

"We're not siblings, we're not dating. She's just- She's one of my best friends." Neither Aradia nor Sollux look convinced. Like you'd really lie to them? What good would that be? You decided that you can bow out now. "Do- Do either of you know where Terezi or Karkat are?"

Sollux can't stop laughing now. He's nasally, his nose scrunches up and it wheezes a little through his teeth. 

"Over there, Dave." Aradia points off to the two further off. The dorky looking squirt with red hair and the girl with the creepy grin and the cane.  
(What the fuck was with these girls and smiling so much?)

You give them a mock salute. "Nice chatting with you."

And you're walking off without anymore discussion. Behind you, Sollux calls after you. "Tell your girlfriend we said Hi."

What an obnoxious bastard. 

You shove your hands in your pockets.. If you weren't sulking before, you certainly look like you're sulking now. You're frowning and the image of an angsty teenager. Which is, no doubt, the best way to make a first impression.

Karkat, you assume, looks up at you first. His frown rivals your own, though it seems like his is just the way his face shapes naturally. His eyebrows are creased together and it's like he's.. Never smiled.   
Terezi looks like his polar opposite. He's got shaggy, red hair. Her hair still looks evenly cut in a strict shape around her head. Red streaks color her blonde hair. She's got the kind of grin that makes you think she knows all your dirty secrets. Perches on her nose is a pair of glasses, the red lenses are broken and cracked.

"Hey," You start. Swallowing thickly as that angry gaze focuses on you. "Uh. Vriska told me to join you guys?"

"You took your sweet fucking time." You're surprised, for some reason. His voice matches his face. Hoarse from shouting, raspy, but still mirroring just how young he was.  
(You decide he reminds you of an angry toddler. Squishy cheeks, pouting.)

Sheepishly, you shrug. "My bad. Sorry." Karkat rolls his eyes, lifting a napsack off the ground. It's grey, with a big red crab printed across it with a cartoon face. Cute.  
Karkat doesn't waste any time, he's already walking off. You look to Terezi now. 

"Don't take it personally." Her cane taps against the ground as she starts walking after him. "He hates everyone." 

You decide not to respond. 

You follow Terezi, who seems to be following Karkat. (You have no idea how, to be honest. You hate to be rude, but you assume she has the cane for a reason.) Up ahead, Karkat is fiddling with his weapon. Why does he have a fucking sickle? Is he a farm boy or something? Is it a prop? You figure that he wouldn't take you asking very well.  
You're trudging down the street for what feels like hours and most of what you spend your thoughts on is old songs. You can't fucking remember the right way the lines go and it's going to drive you fucking insane.

You pick up the pace so you can walk beside Terezi. "Okay, listen. Terezi, right?" She nods her confirmation. "You know that Nicki Minaj song?"

"..What?"

"Nicki Minaj. Her song. Fucking.. Anaconda?"

Terezi scoffs. "Okay.. What about it?"

Your hands wave in front of you slightly. "So- Okay, hear me out, it's gonna drive me crazy. It's like. The line goes like. This dude named Michael, used to find my disciples, right?"

Terezi shrugs. "I never really listened to Nicki much."

You lay a hand over your chest. You feel something shatter inside of you. "Seriously? Come on, you're kidding. Everyone knows _every_ line of Anaconda."

"Except you."   
And something else breaks.

"Come on, Terezi, nothing at all? Not even- Just tell me I'm right, or something."

She shrugs again. "You're right."

"This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles. Dick bigger than a tower, I ain't talking about Eiffel's."

Monotone, irritated, and ahead of you. You almost break down laughing from the sound of Karkat answering your question. 

"Is that the next line or are you reminiscing about old boyfriends?"

Karkat looks back at you with a glare that seems to wish death on you. Terezi starts laughing. It's more like a cackle, but it's infectious and you start to chuckle as well.

"It's the next fucking line, dicktwitch."

And, he goes quiet again.

Well. That was a good sign.. You think.. Maybe.

A silence falls among your little gang again, leaving you alone with your thoughts.. You just have the song stuck in your head, though. "Who wants to acapella Anaconda?" You offer, with a grin twitching at your lips.

"Don't you fucking dare." Karkat warns you, without looking back.

You take a slow, deep breath.

"I fucking mean it."

You make a point of clearing your throat.

"I will _personally_ kick your ass." 

Before you can start, Terezi booms in a sharp, shrieking voice.  
" _My anaconda don't!_ "

You two are more then happy to make Karkat absolutely miserable.


End file.
